Anticlimax
by ParadoxicallyRandom
Summary: It really was anticlimactic, considering everything. If only they had acted...somehow. For the "How I Met You Challenge" on HPFC.
1. Anticlimax

**So...yeah, this is my first official challenge story...so wish me luck! It's for the _lovely _Rani Jashalithie's "How I Met You" Challenge.**

**Pairing's Percy/Audrey, location is the Ministry of Magic telephone booth-thingy, prompts are comforter, blurb, and log, and quote is "I only bother replying to nice people."**

**After reading some of the other entries, I've concluded that this lies somewhere in the range of somewhat-odd to downright-awful, but whatevs.**

**Regardless of the result, this was just _incredibly_ fun...so thanks, RJ.**

**And to everyone else, if you happen to read this, it'd be absolutely-positively-wonderful if you reviewed. XD**

* * *

><p><strong>Anticlimax<br>**_Percy/Audrey; Ministry of Magic Telephone Booth; comforter, blurb, log; "I only bother replying to nice people."_

It was a quarter til eight in the morning, and Percy Weasley was walking on air (and walking to work, although walking to work was considerably less interesting than walking on air.) Oddly enough, he rarely walked to work; in fact, he rarely walked anywhere at all. (Because punctuality was infinitely more important than fresh air, no?)

But today was different. He needed to clear his head, for he had been up horribly late last night...when he had met _her_. He had interviewed _her_ for a secretary position, and they stayed talking in the Leaky for _hours_ afterwards. Of course, _she_ wasn't _just _a secretary, because what was attractive in a girl with no ambition? _She_ was in Floo Regulation, but _she_ wanted this for the sole purpose of experience. And he liked that. A _lot_. (Actually, Percy Weasley was utterly convinced he was in _love_. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he was hopelessly in love with _her_ - from _her_ thick glasses, to _her_ blond hair in the perfect knot on top of _her_ head, to the heels in which _she_ made a brave yet fruitless attempt to walk, and even to the neatly embroidered _A.S. _on every one of _her_ handkerchiefs.)

* * *

><p>It was a quarter til eight in the morning, and Audrey Salisbury was reposing on her couch with the Muggle <em>Times<em>, the _Prophet_, and a steaming mug of black coffee. She relished Wednesdays, for the sole reason that she was allowed to work away from the office. She turned to the comics and restrained a giggle, wondering why the things that made her laugh were so...odd.

There was a loud crash from the next room. (Audrey, rather uncharitably, hoped that Althea had cracked her skull open.) Althea Savage was Audrey's flatmate, and a more savage person would be difficult to find. They had both applied for a room through the same flat-sharing agency in Diagon Alley, which unfortunately happened to pair people by surname.

Althea - who had unfortunately not broken any vital bones - came tottering in on higher heels than normal. "Oh _hell_, I think I'm late. And on the first day too. Audrey, be a _dear_ and tell me the time."

Audrey scowled. "Seven-fifty. Your new manager wouldn't like it if you're late, would he? Are those heels for his benefit? Because, 'Thea, I'm sorry to sound so crude, but you look like an awfully tall _cow_."

Althea looked down at the floor and blinked five times in rapid succession. (Perhaps that was a bit harsh. Under all the _dears _and _darlings, _it was easy to forget that she really was a human being.) Before Audrey could apologize, Althea regained her composure. "Keep your temper, darling. I was just going to ask you for a favour, but - "

Audrey pushed her glasses higher up her nose, and spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm not doing _anything _for you."

"You realize that you're technically _obligated_?" She continued with the lilting tone of somebody who knew perfectly well that she had the upper hand. "Remember when I pulled some strings and got your parents' house temporarily connected to the Floo Network that day when you felt the need to move half of the contents of their bloody attic into the flat? _And _that time when you wanted to help with your mum's spring cleaning? That's _twice_, dear. _Twice_. And you know how _difficult_ it is to connect Muggle houses."

Her teeth were still clenched. "Fine. _Fine_. So what exactly am I _obligated _to do?"

But Althea hesitated...which was odd, since she _never_ faltered. (She must be _very_ far gone.) "Well, I...I...I want to make a good impression on Mr. Weasley, you see? So I'm going to have to Apparate in...just to prove I can. It takes...talent to Apparate." She continued now in a bit of a rush. "And I have some _terribly _important documents, and I don't want anything to happen to them, 'specially since it's the first day. So it's your day off - "

"It's not my day _off_. I'm still working, just from - "

"_Darling_, you've told me before. So where was I...yes. So because you're not _going anywhere_ today, could you drop off the papers at the Ministry at precisely half-past eight? Just go through the visitor's entrance and ask for Mr. Percy Weasley's office."

"Visitor's entrance...I...erm..."

Althea smiled with pity. "Oh, I forgot. You've never been to the Ministry before, have you?"

_Damn _her superiority complex. "There's no shame in being a St. Mungo's - "

"Yes, yes, I _know_, dear. Quite. So I'll just give you the address. Can I have a scrap sheet of paper, then?"

Audrey tore off a leaf from a notebook lying on the coffee table - one of those old battered things that was so awfully ubiquitous but never used.

Balancing the sheet on her hand, Althea wrote something on it in her _flawless_ script, then passed it to Audrey along with a briefcase. "So here are the papers...and I've written down the street address of the entrance, and my number in case you get lost."

"You have a _telephone_? A Muggle telephone?"

"Well, yes. We work with Muggle Relations, and - "

"But I could've _sworn _your new boss was in International Magi - "

"I said we work _with _Muggle Relations, not _in _it, darling."

Audrey turned up her nose in what she considered to be a dignified manner, lifted up the Muggle newspaper again, and stuck out her tongue.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Althea spoke with a honeyed tone, ominous in its sweetness. "I only bother replying to nice people...and you may find that if you get lost and call me, I just won't pick up."

She turned on the high heel of her shoe, overbalanced terribly, and Disapparated with a wobbly crack.

* * *

><p>It was exactly half-past eight, and Percy Weasley was leaning against the inside of the telephone booth. His head was so filled with thoughts of...<em>her<em>, that he had completely forgotten the input code. (Is this what love was? Or was it infatuation...but what was the difference, really?)

_She_ was...very beautifully dignified, though. And simply...very _pretty_. And - oh dear, he was _very_ far gone.

* * *

><p>It was exactly half-past eight, and Audrey was clutching an old-fashioned briefcase filled with Althea's something-or-the-other, and was also very, very lost. She<em>thought<em> she was on the right street. But it looked shabby and dingy and...honestly, downright disgusting. Did she have to tap on a brick or something, like in the Alley? If only -

Oh. A faded red telephone booth - old and apparently abandoned, but hopefully in order. She would swallow her pride and call Althea.

But as she got closer, she saw - _damn_ - that the booth was occupied. Oh well. Her need was greater than..._his_.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me? Could you get out for just a second? It's rather urgent."<p>

Percy jumped up in shock at the knock on the glass. Oh, a _Muggle_. "It's out of order," he yelled through the door.

"Then what are _you _doing here?"

"Likewise. What are _you_ doing on this street in general?"

"Looking for something...a...a building."

"The only thing here's the Ministry of - " Oh_ hell_. "The Ministry of...erm...telephone booths?" Percy bit his lip, and tried not to bury his head in his hands and _cry_. (He was an _official_. He should have known better.)

"Oh, don't bother. I'm not a Muggle...I...I thought _you _were."

He exhaled deeply, out of relief more than anything, and then resumed his customary businesslike demeanor. "Yes, yes...I quite see. This booth's the entrance to the Ministry. Street Entrance. So since that's resolved, what do you want us for? Because I'm in _incredibly_ close contact with the Minister himself, and - "

Talk about _pompous_. "No, no, I'm fine. I just need to give a few papers to somebody...do you by any chance know a Mr. Weasley? Percy Weasley?"

"Speaking, actually. So...who exactly are you?"

"Your new assistant's flatmate."

He let her into the telephone booth, and then there was a short pause in which they none-too-discreetly appraised one another.

* * *

><p>Audrey's first thought was something along the lines of <em>what-the-hell-does-Althea-see-in-him<em>?

He wasn't handsome in the conventional sense (nor in the unconventional sense either). Not a single hair on his head was out of place...except for those few strands that fell into his right eye when he tilted his head against the wall. It somehow made him look more...human. So did his glasses, which happened to be lopsided...and the fact that his left sleeve was rolled up a little higher than the right.

There was a certain sincerity, perhaps an earnestness, to all of his actions. Audrey couldn't place her finger on it.

He was carrying a jacket folded up over one shoulder, and a thick brownish book. All that was visible was a title, something to do with cauldrons.

When he saw her glance towards it, he straightened a bit and nonchalantly adjusted it so that a bit of the blurb on the back cover was showing. Mostly jargon that she couldn't read, and awfully circuitous words that she could, yet chose not to use on a regular basis. (Who would?)

He rose his chin up by an inch or two, then lowered it somewhat smugly. _Pompous git_.

Except that he wasn't _quite_ a git...was he?

* * *

><p>Percy's first thought was something along the lines of <em>what-the-hell-does-Althea-see-in-her<em>?

Must be impossible for those two to share a flat. She wasn't like _her _at all...or was she?

Too substantial to be elfin, yet too elfin to be substantial.

Her hair was windblown...a little too windblown to be decently proper. And her eyes sparkled too much to be _normal_, and her face was much too expressive. (One of _those _people whose emotions were visible regardless of the situation.)

Butterfly, must be. Seemed the Prophet-reporter type.

Except...her square glasses gave her an interestingly intellectual look, enhanced by the dark circles under her eyes. (When _was _the last time she had slept properly?) She moved her hand up to her face for an instant to rub said eyes, highlighting the ink smudges on her right index finger and her _awfully_ chapped lower lip. She looked at him once more, her expression grave and serious in its inquisition.

Interesting...very interesting...very, _very _interesting.

(But anything more?)

* * *

><p>He spoke first. "One second...I'll have to log this."<p>

"Pardon?"

"Enter you into the logbook." He fished a notepad and quill out of a pocket of the coat on his shoulder. "Name?"

"I'd say that's a tad overkill. This isn't even official, is it?"

"I apologize, but it _is _regulatory procedure. Name?"

"Audrey Salisbury. _A_ as in apple, _U_ as in umbrel - "

"No, I've got it." Percy looked rather disgruntled. "I'm a Ministry official, not a first-year."

"Suit yourself. Is that all, then? I need to finish today's paper."

"Bit more. Contact information and such. So, then, place of work?"

"St. Mungo's. But I work at home on Wednesdays, so you can't really contact me at the office."

"You're a healer?"

"Nah, research department. Can't deal with the blood and gore. Nor the people, actually." Her subsequent laugh was lovely in its self-deprecation.

He gave a half smile back, for the sake of doing _something. _"I...I know what you mean."

"_Honestly_. 'Course you don't."

"I _do_. I...I...can't deal with people either. Rubbish at it."

"I think you're more rubbish at _lying_. Ditch the sympathy-thing, will you?"

He sighed, wondering why he was baring his soul to this Audrey girl. "Oh, you don't really get it...and I don't either. Perhaps...well, _anyone _can seem like something else. I s'pose I'm just a pompous git pretending that I know where I want to go...and how to get there."

She was equally candid in response, speaking before she could second-guess her motives. "Pompous, but not _quite_ a git."

The silence that followed was illuminating (to her), empathetic (to him), and not in the _least_ bit awkward for either.

* * *

><p>"Right, then, I need to just check the contents of the briefcase and then you're free to go."<p>

She jumped at the suddenness of his speech before handing it to him; he lifted up one knee and balanced the case on that. It fell on Audrey's foot before he could open the first clasp, leaving her biting her lip in utter agony.

They tried once more. When placed onto the floor of the booth, it took up almost three-quarters of the space, leaving them squished together on one end. He bent down to open it, smashing her toe for the second time. She hit Percy on the head, he shot daggers at her with his eyes, and then threw away all remaining shreds of dignity by purposely stepping on her foot again.

In the end, she waited outside the booth while he opened the briefcase. The contents were as speculated - except they were wrapped carefully in four comforters.

"The damn _idiot_! No wonder it was so heavy on the way here," cried Audrey through the door, rolling her eyes.

He repacked the briefcase and bid her farewell. (Formally, very formally...considering everything.)

She waved, smiled, and Disapparated.

And that was...all. Anticlimactic, to say the least.

* * *

><p>It was a quarter til nine, and Percy remembered the input code now: six-two-four-four-two. Except somehow, going to work didn't seem so attractive a fate. Even to see her. (Her, not <em>her<em>. Not anymore.)

Speaking of _her_, he honestly wished that he was forthright enough to have asked her for butterbeers before she left. If only.

* * *

><p>It was a quarter til nine, and Audrey didn't find the newspaper interesting anymore. Her work was even less enchanting of a prospect.<p>

So she rested her head on a sofa cushion, and dreamed a bit. Mostly of _him_. (Not him, but _him_.)

Oh, _hell_, Althea was most _certainly_ going to kill her after this.


	2. They Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks

**Hey again! Well, to make a long story short, I decided to continue this. Which technically makes a short story long. (awkward laughter) But this will be a relatively short chapter...so yeah. XD**

**Reasons?**

**A) This tied for first in the competition. :D I don't want to abandon it to the miserable fate of obscurity just yet. **

**B) Percy/Audrey's unbelievably underrepresented. I just want to do my bit to help, you know?**

**C) Why not? I mean, one kind soul accidentally put this on alert before I realized I forgot to mark it as complete. XD**

**Anyways, happy reading! Do leave a review or two...**

* * *

><p>Althea Savage had been in the employ of Percy Weasley for precisely one week.<p>

And during that week, she was convinced that her _poor darling_ had developed some kind of cold.

He appeared horrendously ill every time he looked up from his work, and sent her out on constant errands to fetch piping hot coffee and tomato soup from a random Muggle cafe halfway across London.

Of course, the only disease Percy was suffering from was _lovesickness_. (The proof lay in the fact that he would actually find such a dreadful pun _amusing_ in his current state.)

Just meeting Althea's eyes caused him to turn pale with guilt. Particularly as they were such _pretty_ eyes, sparkling with fervor and sympathy.

Staring at her feet was even worse. Her toes actually went _in length order_.

Not to mention that she _still_ couldn't walk in her (lavender) heels, but that didn't dissuade her from wearing them. And with them on, she was _just a hair_ taller than him. Literally.

Point being, Althea was an undoubtedly attractive distraction, but still very much a distraction - which was why he was avoiding her and trying to get her out of the office as much as possible. Because ever since that day one week ago, he had placed his heart in ink-stained hands, and judging by the circumstances, he would never see it again.

Percy buried his head in his hands and indulged himself in a melodramatic sigh of misery.

* * *

><p>Audrey, on the other hand, had <em>not<em> bothered to leave _her_ heart in the company of that _bloody prat_.

Of course he didn't _fancy her_. Who would? Althea was glamorous in that _librarian_ way, which was the sort of thing pompous gits seemed to admire. And honestly, those two would make an ideal match. They could bore each other to sleep and then have twin babies called 'Rules' and 'Regulations.'

So for the past week, Audrey had been pestering Althea with the supposedly sarcastic question of, "So how's your _dearest_ Percy Weasley today?" And the juxtaposition of 'dearest' and 'Percy' most certainly did not make her blush.

Yet Althea's responses (which circulated around _oh-so_ _romantic_ stammerings and stutterings and sighs) somehow made Audrey want to hug a sofa cushion and burst into hysterics.

She consoled herself by answering endless work owls at _ridiculous_ hours of the night, drinking buckets of (heavily caffeinated) peppermint tea, and shooting metaphorical daggers at the back of Althea's head.

* * *

><p>The first time Percy and Althea met in the Leaky Cauldron was the day he had hired her. They had managed to spend somewhere from three to five hours debating the magic carpet issue - one of <em>those<em> topics that had the reputation of being _'controversial'_ despite the fact that a majority of the general public had no opinion on it whatsoever.

This time, they had come directly after an _awful_ workday, and Althea was in an insanely talkative mood. To put it bluntly...he was about to fall _asleep_. The only thought in his mind was that the consequences would be horrendous if he actually did fall asleep. Besides that, his mind was completely and utterly blank. So he might as well _be_ asleep.

"Mr. Weasley? Um...Mr. Weasley?"

He snapped awake and fixated on a point just past Althea's left ear. "Yes? Yes...I agree...completely...with..."

Althea scrutinized him, her eye stern. "You're sick, aren't you? Feverish, by the looks of it. You should go home."

Percy blinked, rather dazed. "Me? _Sick_? No, of _course_ I'm not - "

"The man doth protest too much, methinks."

"Hm? What on earth is - "

"Shakespeare. Hamlet, I think..."

"But who's - "

"Oh, never mind. You're too confused to _think_, let alone Apparate. I'll take you to the flat." She sighed and shook her head with an experienced air.

_Circe's ingrown toenail!_ Why couldn't she just let him _leave_? "No, it's fine; I'll just - no, wait! Miss Savage! Honestly - "

"What? You think I want you splinched?" She looked desperately, _desperately sad_ for an instant before reverting to her classic businesslike demeanor. "Audrey'll have some ridiculous thing for you...she's not exactly the 'ministering angel' type, but no matter."

_Audrey. _(Ministering Angel?) _Angel._

He grasped Althea's arm weakly and landed on the doorstep of the flat without any further complaints.

* * *

><p>When Percy Weasley again met the eyes of the object of his affections, he was conscious of a rather severe...<em>letdown<em>. He had spent the past week building up a perfectly ideal image of Audrey, and the sight that met his eyes was _nothing_ near expectations.

Her hair formed a (disturbingly becoming) tangle around her elfin features, while her robes were stained with a (most _un_-becoming) lime green substance. Her eyes, the supposed conduit to the soul, were incredibly bleary - possibly due to the late hour, a severe excess of strong tea, or the hazy smog covering her glasses.

"What on earth happened to _you_?" burst Althea in utter shock. Percy felt a strong desire to ask the same question.

Audrey sighed. "It's Wednesday," she groaned, as if that acted as an explanation.

"And _that_ is...?" asked Althea, gesturing towards Audrey's robes, in an even _more_ revolted tone of voice.

"It's _supposed_ to be an instant cure for snakebites." She leaned against the side of the doorway and rubbed her left eye with a yawn. "But I think we'll abandon the project, see. It _exploded_ on me! And I couldn't get the stain out of your sofa, and - "

Althea _shrieked,_ for probably the first and only time in her life. She pushed past Percy into the flat, wand drawn.

After a considerably lengthy awkward silence, Audrey managed to look _him_ in the eye. And suffice it to say that the aforementioned _letdown_ wasn't one-sided.

He was literally a hair _shorter_ than Althea. (An Althea in metre-long heels, but that was beside the point.) Not to mention the fact that his robes were a vomit-inducing shade of dark _puce_. And he gave off an impression of patronizing superiority - why? Because _his_ hair was perfect, _his_ glasses were straight and unsmudged, _his_ eyes were alert, _and_ _his_ hair was freshly brushed. _Disgusting_.

She spoke first. "And you're _here_ because...?"

"Miss Savage believed I was too ill to Apparate home."

"Ill?" She laughed mirthlessly. "_Boredom_ isn't a disease. Though I'm afraid it's catching. I'd advise you to get _out_."

_Ouch_. Audrey could pass for a badly-groomed Venomous Tentacula. So Percy told her just that.

"_Leave_! I'm serious, I've had a horrendous day and I'm covered in green sludge, so _you_ ought to - " She trailed off into a string of insults.

He rolled his eyes and turned on one heel to leave. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

She stopped her tirade, stunned. "_Wait_! You know Shakespeare?"

"Actually, I was wondering who the _hell_ - "

The dark cloud vanished from her face. "Come in. I have _tea_...I hope you like peppermint..."

Bemused, he stepped in behind the beaming Audrey and closed the door shut.


End file.
